Death's Horcrux
by catzetier
Summary: Death is unimpressed with Voldemort's quest for immortality, especially when it involves his property, but is determined to be patient nevertheless. Voldemort is unimpressed with Death's interference and is most decidedly not going to be patient. The ensuing confrontation can only be described as "...FUN".
1. Chapter 1

Lord Voldemort was growing worried. The niggling little feeling at the back of his mind was not going away, and as much as he would have liked to blame it on Potter, the subtlety of the attack was not at all Potter's style. More than anything else, it was irritating. Potter's attempts at mental attack, after the fashion of true Gryffindor idiocy, were more comparable to fireworks than itching powder. Mostly show. And sometimes quite pretty to watch from behind his shields, not that he would ever admit that... save maybe to Potter. It might goad him into doing something rash.

 _Potter_

 _Thank you for the so-called show last night. It was, however, not anywhere near as spectacular as I had hoped. Some green flashes would liven it up to great effect. I would be happy to demonstrate for you if you would be so kind as to show up tomorrow afternoon without your wand..._

He shook his head sharply and brought his hands to his temples. It didn't help.

* * *

Far away, in a tiny hovel that could perhaps be called tumbledown, filthy and unloved if the words themselves hadn't objected to being associated with something this despicable, a small sliver of sequestered soul began to shiver with fear. The ring shook and shuddered behind the strongest protections that Lord Voldemort himself could conjure. It knew its enemy was the very definition of patience.

In the far corner, Death sipped his hot chocolate and watched with interest. Absentmindedly, he dunked a marshmallow and offered it to another skeletal figure clinging to his shoulder, which accepted it and spoke.

"SQUEAFTH?"

"WELL, IT'S ONLY POLITE TO WAIT FOR HIM."

* * *

Two hours later, the niggling little feeling had acquired a pulse and was rapidly approaching the final stages of an All-Consuming Painful Headache. Remedies had not helped; his pet Healer had been at a loss. Bellatrix had tried to kiss it better. Severus had flatly refused to consider the notion, even with the added incentive of the Cruciatus Curse. Lord Voldemort had sworn.

Extensively.

In Old Gaelic.

* * *

"NO, I SEE NO REASON TO SIMPLY DO IT IN HIS ABSENCE. BESIDES, THE ENSUING CONVERSATION SHOULD BE... FUN."

* * *

The large niggling feeling was making itself felt to a quite distracting level. Lord Voldemort realised, with a horrible sinking sensation, that it was not going to slink away without assistance. It could hardly even be called a "niggle" now. What it could be called was the state of being on the wrong end of a tug-of-war.

Something inside him was stretching. And it was stretching straight towards Little Hangleton.

 _My Horcrux!_

* * *

"NO. WE WILL WAIT FOR HIM AND THAT IS FINAL. EAT YOUR MARSHMALLOW."

* * *

 _I need backup. If the Order has found a Horcrux, I will be too concerned with rescuing it to fight. But if they have not, if this is just an... aberration... I will not reveal my secret to anyone and therefore need someone who will not ask questions and do exactly what I say._

 _Unfortunately, the only one who fits those requirements is Wormtail. And Crabbe and Goyle, I suppose, but I'm not yet that desperate._

Lord Voldemort cautiously raised his head and tried to ignore his headache.

"Wormtail! Come here - _don't sneak up on me like that!"_

"S-s-sorry, m-my Lord."

Lord Voldemort bit his tongue. As satisfying as it might be to disembowel the rat, the situation called for him to be alive. It also called for him to be conscious.

He mustered his patience.

"You will do exactly as I tell you and no more."

"Y-yes, my Lord."

"First command: You are never again to approach me from behind."

* * *

"AH."

"SQUEAK?"

"HE HAS ARRIVED. BE VERY QUIET."

* * *

"I order you to stay in human form, Wormtail. If anybody arrives, kill them. If you mistakenly try to kill me when I reappear, your life will be painfully short in every sense."

As Wormtail edged behind a clump of sickly, spindly nettles which blended almost perfectly with his complexion, sending nervous glances at the snake skeleton nailed to the door, it twitched, raising its head to eye level with his master and prompting Pettigrew to almost wet his robes. Lord Voldemort stroked the skeleton possessively under the chin, hissed, and entered with ease. The door groaned shut behind him and the skeleton made itself comfortable for a staring match.

* * *

"SQUEAK."

"HE DOES NOT LOOK VERY MUCH LIKE HIS PARENTS AT ALL. NOW SHUSH."

* * *

Lord Voldemort stared blankly at the corner. He could have sworn by the life of Albus Dumbledore that he had heard something, but he could see nothing alive and searching with his wand had also revealed nothing. Nothing alive, at least. A mug of sweet-smelling glutinous brown liquid and a half-eaten bag of marshmallows, however, were sitting smugly on the table. On the mug were painted the words "To the world's greatest Granddad". There was a teaspoon in it.

Somebody had been making hot chocolate in the chosen resting place of his Horcrux!

 _Albus Dumbledore, I am going to kill you. Slowly._

But the Horcrux seemed to be intact. The magic was flowing as it should, and he could feel that it was definitely still there. In fact, no attempt at all seemed to have been made to steal it. However, something was definitely wrong. Lord Voldemort blinked and looked again. No, it was still happening. He stared, eyes wide and shocked, at the wriggling ring. It was obviously terrified out of its mind.

"All right, precious, calm down. I'm coming."

* * *

"SQUEAK?"

"DO NOT ASK ME. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE SAID, BUT IF HE CONTINUES SAYING IT HE WILL SOON BE SOAKED WITH SPITTLE."

* * *

Lord Voldemort held his Horcrux in the palm of his left hand, examining it closely. It was quiescent now, which was a relief. Again, he could neither see nor sense anything wrong with it. It was a perfectly normal Horcrux, if more skilfully crafted and more cunningly hidden than any Horcrux belonging to anyone else ever had been, or would ever be. That was only right. He was, after all, the most powerful and cunning Dark Lord the world had ever known.

An exceptionally bony hand reached over Lord Voldemort's shoulder, plucked the prized Horcrux from his hand, and crushed the stone to dust between its thumb and forefinger.

"THANK YOU."

Lord Voldemort whirled, an _Avada Kedavra_ already at his lips.

And froze.

Mildly perplexed, a voice said, "WHATEVER IS THE MATTER? I CREATED IT. IT WAS MINE TO DESTROY."

It was a skeleton. It was robed in black. It held a scythe. Fairly typical, even clichéd.

It had blue eyes. It was grinning in an unamused, serious fashion. More unusual.

It was taller than he was. This was a new experience.

To make matters worse, Lord Voldemort could now distinctly hear a "SNGH. SNGH. SNGH" noise coming from the vicinity of its left elbow.

 _Nobody granulates one of my Horcruxes, laughs at me, and lives to tell the tale! Not even Death himself!_

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light illuminated the room, the vibrant colour of murder almost alive in the moment of impact. Death blinked.

"WHAT EXACTLY DID YOU HOPE TO ACHIEVE BY DOING THAT?"

Lord Voldemort stared mutely. The skeleton was between him and the door.

"OH." Death hesitated, then added in a comforting tone, "YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST PERSON TO MISTAKE ME FOR A MORTAL WEARING A COSTUME. ACCIDENTS HAPPEN. IT HAS HAPPENED TO _YOU_ BEFORE. I REMEMBER. OF COURSE IT IS NOT _QUITE_ THE SAME, BECAUSE YOU ARE MORTAL AND I AM NOT."

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Death spoke again, clearly wanting to help the person in front of him overcome his nerves.

"DO YOU REALISE THAT YOU HAVE GOT A PERSISTENT TIC UNDER YOUR LEFT EYE?"

"Get out! Get out right now, stay out, stay away from me and stay away from..." Lord Voldemort bit off the last words of the sentence, terribly aware that he was frightened and, even worse, was showing it. Hopefully Death wouldn't notice.

"ARE YOU FRIGHTENED OF ME?"

Lord Voldemort leaned close, suppressing his shudder and telling his insides to _be quiet_. " _No!_ I am not frightened of you! _You_ are a hallucination."

"YOU SOUND LIKE EBENEEZER SCROOGE."

Oh Merlin, a literate skeleton. Lord Voldemort desperately wanted to deny the accusation, but he did _not_ want to get into a meaningful conversation about the merits of this or that book. Death's posture had shifted and he was even looking eager.

 _He wants to have a discussion with me. About literature, of all things. And then I suppose he'll wax philosophical about the meaning of life and immortality and how all beings have to die so he won't lose his job - no. I think not._

Lord Voldemort would not succumb to a skeleton. He would _not_. He pressed his lips together and glowered. Unfortunately, the skeleton was _still_ situated between him and the door. He tried to unobtrusively edge to the side. Death spoke again, taking a sidestep of his own.

"AT LEAST EBENEEZER SCROOGE COULD BLAME HIS PARENTS FOR HIS FAINTLY RIDICULOUS NAME. OR, AT THE VERY LEAST, HIS AUTHOR. YOU, ON THE OTHER HAND, REJECTED A PERFECTLY SENSIBLE NAME GIVEN TO YOU BY YOUR MOTHER FOR A TITLE WHICH YOU YOURSELF ARE CONTINUALLY MISPRONOUNCING."

Lord Voldemort, in that one instant, forgot his fear. "What on earth are you talking about? I know how to pronounce my own name!"

"VOL-DUH-MORE. THE 'T' IS SILENT. FLIGHT OF DEATH. EVEN WHEN CORRECTLY ARTICULATED, IT IS A RATHER PRETENTIOUS NAME AT THE VERY LEAST. AND INACCURATE."

" _What?_ "

"I MUST INFORM YOU THAT YOU WOULD BE HOPELESS AT MY JOB. YOU ENJOY KILLING FAR TOO MUCH AND WOULD CHEAT PEOPLE OF THEIR ALLOTTED SPAN OF YEARS. THE GODS WOULD BE DISPLEASED, AND I IMAGINE THAT THE AUDITORS WOULD BE AS WELL. EVEN _I_ HAVE NEVER MANAGED TO ANNOY ALL OF THEM _AT THE SAME TIME_."

A pause.

"BESIDES, I REFUSE TO LEND YOU BINKY. IT IS STRICTLY A FAMILY BUSINESS."

 _All right, that's it. Nobody says that I'm hopeless at anything! Since Avada Kedavra doesn't work on Death..._

"Crucio!"

Death twitched.

"PLEASE DESIST. IT TICKLES."

Lord Voldemort lowered his wand in defeated disbelief.

"I REALISE THIS HAS BEEN A SHOCK. TRY KITTENS."

Shock didn't even come close.

"WELL... THEY ALWAYS CHEER ME UP."

"Look..." Lord Voldemort was almost beside himself. "Just... leave. Stay away from me. _Far_ away. I won't mention this to anyone if you don't..." He was almost pleading, and hated it.

"I WILL GLADLY LEAVE. I HAVE SAID WHAT I CAME HERE TO SAY AND DESTROYED WHAT I CAME HERE TO DESTROY. HOWEVER, I WILL BE SEEING YOU AGAIN SHORTLY."

" _What! Why?_ "

"I COULD TELL YOU WHEN, IF YOU LIKE. MOST PEOPLE PREFER NOT TO KNOW."

Lord Voldemort tried to appear calm. "Tell me." Surprisingly, he succeeded.

Death sighed. "YOU ARE DUE TO DIE..." He extracted an hourglass from his sleeve. "OH. _PAST_ TENSE. YOU _WERE_ DUE TO DIE SIXTEEN YEARS, ELEVEN MONTHS, FOUR DAYS AND FIFTEEN SECONDS AGO... TO THE SECOND."

Lord Voldemort blinked.

Death blinked.

He tapped the hourglass, examining it minutely, wearing a faintly puzzled expression. Finally, he uttered a single word.

"BUGGER."

Lord Voldemort hid a smirk. Death pretended not to notice.

"IT WILL ALL WORK OUT PROPERLY IN THE END, I'M SURE. IT ALWAYS DOES." He patted Lord Voldemort kindly on the shoulder.

The good mood of Lord Voldemort vanished instantly. Death noticed, and hid a smirk of his own.

"THAT SHOULD SET YOUR MIND AT REST."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** Well, now I feel silly. Not only did I forget the standard disclaimer, I _also_ did not mark this story complete at the single chapter. It was supposed to be a one-shot. And to keep from disappointing JerichoTazer and LordFiolr, who added it to their Story Alerts thinking it wasn't finished, here is Chapter Two, written almost nine years after Chapter One!

Reviews are lovely things. It's nice to have feedback. If you like this little slice of madness, please do tell me. :)

 **Standard Disclaimer That Ought To Have Been At The Start Of Chapter One:** Anything you recognise is not mine. Anything you don't is. Basically, anything that does not belong to me is the property of J.K. Rowling, and Terry Pratchett, and whoever wrote the first pantomime version of "Cinderella" that I ever saw, and there's even a slight reference to Tolkien. I kid you not - there _is_ a near-quote from the "Cinderella" pantomime in here. Also, I have quoted two sentences from the story on that started this craziness ("The Boring Job" by Translucent Darkness, which I thought was a fantastic basic premise which was sadly underexploited, ergo I did my own version).

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

The snake skeleton hadn't had a day this good since it had been alive. It was a very boring life, being nailed to a door attached to a house that nobody came near. But today there had been visitors. First there had been the tall creature who spoke to it LIKE THIS and they'd had a most fascinating conversation about cats. The tall creature had liked them. The snake had been indifferent – while it had been alive, it had been too big to be eaten by them but not big enough to eat them, so cats had been an annoyance until it'd discovered that they made _excellent_ warm coverings. The cats had not been so impressed, and the snake had learnt to sneak up on them while they slept.

The small skeletal creature, on the other hand, had awoken its appetite. It hadn't had a meal in... in...

In far too long, that's what.

* * *

Outside the door, Wormtail was freaking out. The snake skeleton had not stopped staring at him since he and his Master had arrived, and now it was beginning to smack its jaws and strain towards him.

* * *

Then there'd been a long patch of quiet. The snake skeleton's suspense was almost killing it.

Metaphorically speaking.

But really, what was a snake skeleton to do when its first visitors in over forty years had not only visited it, but _also_ informed it that they were expecting somebody else very shortly?

The tasty-looking skeleton had briefly reappeared through the door and offered the snake skeleton something pink and squishy-looking. The snake skeleton had accepted.

The marshmallow had been the best thing he'd ever eaten. Dead or alive. But then, his stomach felt so empty that if he'd been offered a _stone_ , he'd probably have said the same thing.

Technically speaking, he no longer _had_ a stomach, but it still felt like he did, and it had felt empty.

The marshmallow had also done one other thing. The snake skeleton manipulated its jaws, trying to get the melting pink goo off its poisonous fangs.

* * *

The snake skeleton was _salivating diluted blood_ at him. Pink was dripping onto the ground. Wormtail would have liked nothing better than to flee, preferably to somewhere where the only snakes to be found were the snakes in Muggle sweet packets. The sort of snakes that one could bite the heads off of. He shuddered and edged as far away from the door as he could while still keeping it in sight. The snake skeleton raised its head as far as it could to keep him in view.

* * *

The next guest had been rude. The tall man had been able to speak its language, and even a "Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" would have been at least _bordering_ on polite, but no. All the man had said was "Open the door and bite anybody but me who comes close enough to you." How on earth was it ever going to get an interesting conversation if it had to kill any possibilities, it wanted to know. But the man hadn't listened.

The small, scared man that the rude one had brought with him, on the other hand... there were possibilities there. Maybe he would be more talkative.

 _Hey, you over there. Want to chat?_ The snake skeleton strained towards him, trying to get rid of the very last of the marshmallow. _Please? I'm so_ _ **bored**_ _. I have to bite you if you come too close, but we can talk from a distance._

* * *

Wormtail relaxed slightly as the snake skeleton's head sank down again. _Maybe it's given up? Maybe I'm out of range now._

* * *

"SQUEAK."

 _Oh, I'm sorry. Yes. Thank you very much for the second marshmallow. It can't be easy, manipulating it through the hole in the side of the door._

"SQUEAK."

 _Yes, I know I have it all over my face. And you know what?_

"SQUEAK? _"_

 _I don't even care. This is the best day I've ever had since before I died._

The Death of Rats patted the snake skeleton kindly on its tail, looking sympathetic. Then its blue eyes suddenly brightened.

"SQUEAK?"

 _Really? Oh yes, I'd love to. Are you sure he won't mind?_

The Death of Rats shook its head and spread its paws wide in a welcoming gesture. "SQUEAK."

* * *

The door opened. Wormtail blinked as his Master staggered through it and sank down against the frame, breathing hard. _I'd say he'd had a heart attack if I wasn't well aware that he has no heart._

* * *

Death stepped over the prone form of Lord Voldemort and turned to go. The snake skeleton began to writhe frantically.

"SQUEAK!"

"WHAT?" Death looked at the desperate skeleton. "OH. OF COURSE HE CAN COME." He paused, studying the snake's jaws. "WERE YOU SNEAKING HIM MARSHMALLOWS?"

The Death of Rats looked down, abashed.

* * *

Hesitantly, Wormtail edged out of the nettles. Whatever had happened to his Master to make him faint like that, if he didn't help he'd be tortured when his Master woke up. Of course, if his Master woke up while he was helping, he'd be tortured anyway. _How did I ever get myself into this mess?_ He looked warily at the snake skeleton.

Or at the place where the snake skeleton had been. Wormtail promptly panicked. _Where'd it go? It wants to_ _ **eat**_ _me and now I can't see where it is!_

Something tapped him between the shoulder blades. Wormtail shrieked and spun around.

"YOU HAVE NO NEED TO FEAR. YOUR TIME IS NOT YET UP."

Wormtail's gaze slowly, disbelievingly lifted to the figure's face. For lack of anything else to call it.

"SQUEAK."

Wormtail's horrified stare shifted to the creature's left shoulder. The Death of Rats waved at him merrily, grinning. "SQUEAK." It pointed to Wormtail, then to itself, and picked up its tiny scythe. "SQUEAK." It nodded once at him, pointedly, then turned back to the horror whose shoulder it was riding on.

"SQUEAK."

"OH, VERY WELL. WE CAN ALWAYS ACQUIRE ANOTHER BAG." The monster inserted its skeletal fingers delicately into its sleeve and extracted a mostly-empty packet of marshmallows, offering one to the skeletal rat and one to the snake skeleton, who Wormtail now noticed was curled up on Death's other shoulder. The snake opened its jaws wide and chomped down on the marshmallow, sighing happily. And then they suddenly weren't there anymore.

Wormtail sank to the ground, retaining just enough presence of mind to conjure a sunshade over both him and his Master as a token sign that he _had_ helped. He made sure that it had a pattern of Dark Marks. With a very slight bit of malice aforethought, he gave just one of the Dark Mark symbols a subtle shade of _blue_ deep in the eye sockets.

* * *

 **All right, people, that's definitely the END of this story (unless of course the writing bug bites once again for it, but given the nine-year gap between me writing the chapters I think this is most unlikely)! Thanks once again to JerichoTazer and LordFiolr, without whom there would never have BEEN a Chapter Two!**


End file.
